


Common Ground

by CorsetJinx



Category: Final Fantasy II
Genre: Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 09:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11124087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: It has been five years since he came to serve the royal family of Finn. Hilda feels it may be safe to ask a few questions at last.





	Common Ground

“Do you miss your home in Mysidia?” She asks one evening, her hands full of ledgers and accounts from the archives. Sorting them is tedious work - nearly as much as reading the words themselves and between the lines where greater meaning can lie, but she does it.

It isn’t as if she labors alone, which makes the process easier - a trusted set of eyes, calm words and a patient mind have done wonders since he came to Finn.

Minwu only pauses long enough to separate two sheets of parchment from one another, scanning the writing on both before setting them in a semblance of order. They’ll know what goes with what soon enough, what with the two of them working together.

“I miss the sea.” He admits quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the rustle of parchment and creaking wood. When she looks up to gauge his expression, what she can discern of it, he looks exactly as he always has to her.

A man, trained in the art of white magic - humble and kind.

There’s more, she knows. More to him and this than words can say, but it is neither the time or place for such things.

“Just the sea?” Hilda quietly prompts. The document in her hand tells of an increase in taxes - too high to be her father’s work, at least for recent years. She sets it aside for now and turns her gaze to the next one.

Quiet settles over their section of the archives - the sounds of their search one of the few things keeping it from being absolutely silent. Minwu does not hum under his breath as some of her father’s men do, nor does he count figures to keep his attention on the task before him. In passing glances Hilda cannot be sure if his mouth moves at all beneath his veil as he sorts through accounts of Finn’s history that surely must be somewhat different from Mysidia’s own.

His voice, when he is ready to speak, is soft. Thoughtful, as though she has asked him to puzzle out the shapes of the stars rather than think of the place of his birth.

“The Great Library could be much like this.” He gestures carefully as he says it, sleeve of his robe shining bright white in the flickering of the candles. At her tilt of head he elaborates. “There are enough similarities in Finn that I am not overcome with homesickness. The people are hale and have treated me with kindness, your father and yourself included. I have my work and it keeps me busy without removing me from the people’s side.”

He pauses once more and turns his eyes to the shelves rather than the scroll in his hand, looking over tomes and loose parchment alike as though each held something which might be familiar if only he looked enough.

“Perhaps the only things truly missing are the sea and the prayers we would recite throughout the day.” His eyes crinkle faintly at the corners as he adds the words to the ones already between them.

Hilda does not want to admit her surprise aloud and be seen as rude for it. He is a mage, she knows - though she does not follow the craft herself. It should not seem so odd that he might pray, though for all she searches her memory she cannot recall ever catching him at it.

‘Catching’ - the choice of word in her own mind makes her want to grimace at herself. As though he were some criminal, rather than the closest she had to a friend.

“Are your prayers linked to your spells?” She asks instead, choosing her words as carefully as she can. It would be convenient to remember the documents in her hands now, to lower her gaze and pretend at work rather than face him fully and with all her attention. She respects him too much for that.

Minwu’s gaze is kind when it meets hers, surprising her a little more for the tinge of amusement in it. “They are. We pray to the elements, to the spirits. To the powers which grant us our magic. Some space it out through the day, others recite them at mealtimes.”

Not so different from Finn, she thinks. There is the temptation to smile and tell him so, yet she doesn’t.

“And you?” She asks as she shuffles the papers she is holding into order.

“I recite them as I work, in thanks.” He answers back. She cannot tell if he is smiling but his tone is pleasant, their work slowly coming together.

It is enough.


End file.
